Persephone
by Gabzies
Summary: A sequel to The Bad Man by Sadademort. He says He wants him to remember, but what happens when he does? LVHP slash.


Written as a sequel to "The Bad Man" by the lovely Sadademort.

I own nothing.

**Persephone**

I stare into the mirror that He gave me. He likes to stand me in front of it while He holds me. It's odd. And He's been doing it a lot recently. Not scratching. Not groping. Not strangling. Almost cradling me while He rests His clothed head in the crook of my neck and hums a pretty little tune. Well, it would've been pretty if someone else was singing it, but from His mouth it sounded sad, haunting, like a deranged mother singing to her lifeless child.

But at the moment, He isn't here, no. And won't be for a while. Right now I am alone to look at the pretty mirror in front of me. It is long but thin, just barely wide enough for my body. Its lovely onyx frame is inlaid with ivory cameos. Each of them depicting two faces. One being an ebony haired angel with actual emerald eyes and rosy cheeks and lips; his partner the face of a sable cowled demon with high cheekbones, without a nose or lips and ruby eyes and with skin as white as his companion's . Yes, beautiful.

I look to my body in the mirror; I am slender, pale, and tall. I look to my face: disheveled but shiny black hair, pink, full lips and cheeks, and an odd scar. It was shaped like a lightning bolt in the middle of my forehead.

Whenever the Bad Man was in the room, it burns like the fires of Hell. Even when not in His presence sometimes it hurts because I can feel his anger, pain, happiness, or sadness. I don't like it when He's sad, and He has been a lot lately, and he doesn't come into my room as much as he used to.

But never mind that for now. My eyes rest on my last mentionable feature; themselves. They are a bright jade color protected by the black curtain of my lashes. The color is so very familiar…like I've seen it before many times in the past, except I don't remember….

My eyes widen as my brain gets caught on the 17th word in the last broken thought….

"..Except…."

I hear a man say in wonder as he looks at my face.

"…..Except…"

I realize what is happening. I try to block out the voices. But as I do, my expressive eyes widen themselves, the damned traitors. They _want_ to remember.

"….cept…Except for your eyes…..you have your mother's eyes…"

The sinfully delicious red fruit is swaying in front of me. The Great Serpent hisses for me to take it. Devour it. And even though I know that after the first bite, which will be sweet beyond compare, it will turn to ash in my mouth. A sickening combination of lost hopes, unspeakable horrors, decay and writhing maggots on my palate. But it's so _red_ So _ripe_. I begin to remember that I loved the color red.

'Yes…', I think to myself, ' Mother….'

She bursts into my head, a startling array of bright colors; pinks, oranges, and greens .The first bite caresses my esophagus.

I finally focus on her. She is beautiful: lively red hair; clear, soft, creamy skin; and eyes as green and soft as moss. Then an overwhelming sadness hits me. Out of nowhere I remember that she is dead, along with my father. Killed along with the memory of a flash of green light. "Car accident," I recall my Aunt's and Uncle's harsh explanation. Harsh and untrue. My teeth sink into the blushing fruit again.

I stare deeper into the abyss of my emerald eyes. 'Yes, they lied.'

" _How__ could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter_," So those are their names. " _It's__ an outrage__! A scandal! Harry Potter not __knowin__' his own story when_ _every kid in our world knows his name_" Shouted the deep voice of a man that he knew he knew, but couldn't quite recollect. Chew before swallowing.

I think, ' So my name is Harry Potter? And my parents, Lily and James, weren't killed in an accident. Which means it was deliberate?' The second bite is not as good as the first, but I'll keep eating it. Why waste it?

I see another flash of that blinding light. And what did the man mean about "_our_ world" ? Why did people know _my_ name? Who killed my parents? The third is bitter. I want to put it down, but the Serpent won't let me. After all, the scarlet scarcity is very lovely…. But I remember that I also have a fear of red. Damned snake.

Who? I don't really want to know, but my eyes beg the question. The special, unique, _familiar_emeralds _plead_. They want to know. They _need_ to know. Who did it? WHO KILLED MY PARENTS?!

Green light, then…

_You-Know-Who_…

I freeze. I feel the Serpent's coil around my shoulders. Pinning my arms to my sides as he forces the blasted beautiful red fruit down my screaming throat. Cold arms encircle me. My scar burns.

Over the soft singing in my ear in real time, I can hear my mother trying to hush me as she holds me to her breasts. Warmth. Someone is at the door. There is shouting. Two voices. One being my father's, the other's I recognizable, but I can't quite remember. His voice is cold and high. The tune in my ear grows louder, sweeter.

There is a loud shout from the man with the odd voice. Then everything is quiet except for my mother's tears and soft footsteps coming up the stairs. Mother puts me in my cradle and kisses me on the forehead. A tall man enters the room, and my mother whips in front of my cradle, shielding me from him. He and Mother both have long sticks of wood that they are waiving at each other. _Wands_. The tall man is shouting at her, and she shouts back with tears in her voice. I can't see his face. The song gets louder still and my shoulder suddenly feels wet.

They keep arguing like this for a while until the Tall Man raises his wand, shouts at my mother and the green light blazes again.

Oh, God.

I hear footsteps, slow and deliberate, approach my little nursery.

Oh, God, please, no. No, no, no….

I can almost see his face. The lullaby is now a full forte, from a sad, crying voice.

I can see him. His terrible eyes, red as the frit of my repressed memory. Skin white and pure. No nose. No lips.

"What a beautiful boy."

The singing has stopped, and I hear those words in both realms. I slowly look up, knowing what I will find, but praying to God that it isn't….it isn't Hi…

It is Him. The Bad Man. Voldemort. The man that killed my parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore. So many others. The one that took my blood, my innocence.

I scream. I scream and cry as he holds me in front of the mirror. This is what he wanted. He wanted to taste my tears, to remember our past, and connect it to our present.

So then why isn't he smiling? Laughing triumphantly? No, instead I see that he is weeping, too. He is not licking my tears but kissing them. Kissing me. Voldemort's red eyes are full of sadness. Pain.

"I'm sorry, Love. I'm so sorry."

It occurs to me that I now have His necklace around my throat. It's so pretty as his sparkling tears grace it. Tears from a man that doesn't cry. It hits me what it is He's been putting around my neck. It is a Horcrux. A piece of his soul. His _heart_

"I'm sorry, I love you. Don't cry, even if you look so lovely doing it."

He...?.No. Dumbledore said that was impossible. His hissings mean nothing. He can't love. But his face looks so sad, so guilty. His tears are sweet and perfumed with a lover's remorse. He didn't mean to hurt me. He's lonely, and doesn't know how to react to certain feelings. He's rough when He doesn't mean to be. He's like Hades trying to woo fair Persephone.

I laugh. He looks startled for a moment. Well, I suppose I am a Persephone of sorts. I was picking "flowers" when he found me. I had Nagini, his snake. I was about to kill her. He abducted me and put me in this little room. It was very lovely, I just realized. With anything I could ask for. It never registered before, but he would give me little gifts sometimes: roses, chocolates, jewelry, little singing birds. I was usually too busy crying to realize.

He's been more gentle with me lately. He holds me, and when he takes from me, he is gentle and uses lubrication to make me comfortable. Lately, I can't help but make little noises of pleasure while He's with me. When _we'r__e_ done, He'll even lie with me for a little while until I fall asleep. He'll sing and play with my hair and tell me how lovely I am. And he doesn't torture or yell at me anymore.

Yes, He _did_ kidnap me, rape me, beat me. But He also _loves_me and gave me part of His soul as a gift.

One time a Death Eater wandered in and tried to hurt me and take from me, but Voldemort showed up. He was livid, and awarded his wayward follower with a couple horrifying curses, and then ended his life with a flash of green. Before he left he looked a t me like he was about to say something and step toward me, but he decided not to when he say me cringe as he approached. He looked at me sadly, closed the door, and left.

He loves me. Hades loves Persephone. He wants me to rule beside him in Hell. To love him.

He's still crying pathetically and kissing me all over. He also looks beautiful when he cries. His tears make his scarlet eyes sparkle like rubies. His skin is soft and white like ivory, not chalk. His is willowy, not skinny. He has a pleasant spicy smell to him. His nose doesn't bother me, Lord knows, being British, I've seen my fair-share of overlarge noses. His slight one is unique, special_lovely_.

I, Persephone, no longer has a Demeter, He killed my real mother and slaughtered the Order. He's all I have left.

I, Persephone, love Hades.

I, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Love You-Know-Who.

I raise his chin with my finger and level it to my face. I kiss him 1, 2,3.times. I pause. Who could I go back to? There is no more Spring. I would be wandering around a wasteland for nine months of every year. Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Twelve kisses. Twelve pomegranate seeds.


End file.
